In The Silence
by AmIObsessed
Summary: Demons were dealt with accordingly, and being locked away from humanity was what Len Kagamine deserved. He was a monster, contained to protect mankind. But when little Miku discovers him, how could he be expected to play nice? It's just to teach Miku that some demons are hard to drown, especially when they know how to swim.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the story I will most likely be working on most, since I have been having a bit of writer's block for my others lately. It's quite annoying..but hopefully I can actually work on this one.. Inspired by the song, _Can You Feel My Heart,_ by Bring Me The Horizon. Listen to that song.**

* * *

He was an abomination, one that needed to be effaced.

She drifted through the quiescent house, a ghost whose pale complexion was illuminated by a single candle. She didn't know when it became clear that he was a demon, Lucifer's child in the living flesh. Before she was dense, blinded by his alluring looks and deceitful tongue, his satin voice muddling her judgment and rendering her into a puddle of melted butter. The enchanting words he hummed had corrupted what was righteous in her eyes. All that was good turned erroneous, casting a light of angelic purity upon him.

She was weak, in the mind and her emotions, captivated from the first look. The look his icy blue eyes sent down her spine—it was chilling, naughty almost. His sultry drawls and lean, toned body, they overwhelmed the mortal woman. Demons were meant to lure women, and they never failed at doing just that. To be enamoured by an entity so heinous, she didn't purposely do it, but nonetheless she had fallen for him.

That was all prior to the revelation of his true identity. Before her knowledge that he was a monstrous being, cast out by society and all that was holy and sanctified. But he was too perfect for her to believe it. The signs were in vain to her, the mortal who had lost her heart to a demon. His unblemished self could simply not be what others claimed he was. This boy was a replication of God.

She refused to see reason, until it was too late. Only when he had shown his true colors by committing a massacre in the town did she find clarity. The world was tossed into a refined sharpness, every corner and soft edge turned to razors, as if she'd been thrown into a frozen lake. She finally saw past his charade to the malignant spirit who had played the part of a wolf in sheep's clothing. And..he was terrifying.

Bare feet were muffled on rough wood flooring as the girl turned the hall, staring down its vastness. Shadows draped the walls and obfuscated framed pictures, taken and painted; one depicted the almighty God himself. The corridor before her extended like an infinitely winding path laid with the capes of these shadows, ghostly coloured gems lit upon the wood were the illuminated rays of moonlight. It spiraled onward into eternity, seeming that there really was no end, no door or destination it led to. She took a reassuring breath, and commanded her legs to move.

On the door at the hall's end, what would she discovery? By prior experience, she had learned that this demon..He did not sleep. His claret tinted eyes would pierce the dark and cause her to become rigid whenever she walked in, unexpected; she was curious on the sleeping habits of supernatural beings. Unnerving, even enfeebling. His collectively cool stare was enough to make her his slave. It was an act of hypnotism that did not seem to fool her. It made him all the more dangerous.

The door came too soon; the hall had manipulated her by giving convincing looks and appearing as an ever extending passage. Splinters jutted out of the cheap wood like threatening signs, advising her it would be safe to turn around. She wished she could, oh how badly she wished this was nothing but a dream, but wishes weren't reality. Wishes wouldn't make the demon who habited her house leave. If wishes were as powerful as people made them to be, she would be the most desired, wealthiest—

She would not have a house guest who she was sure had made a snack out of her feline.

The woman winced at the door's creaking, regretting the voice that had recommended she oil its hinges, and how she had disregarded it. Stealing a glance around the room's caliginous interior, she couldn't miss_ him_. He lie in bed, expression one of pure boredom and expectance. He hadn't raised a brow at her entrance, not that it was surprisingly. This boy didn't show much emotion, as it was, and it suited his formidable demeanor.

Her body was stiff and unmoving, as if her bones knew this was the point of no return, and it wasn't quite certain what would become. She wouldn't fear him any longer, demon or not, he didn't hold any control over her. Len Kagamine, _the monster's name_, would plague her mind and twist her dreams into malicious nightmares no more. Her short nails dug into the molting wood softly, the stench of decay smacking her across the face. His diet, as he referred to his intake of strictly human flesh, repulsed her to no end.

And it was to her distress that she was to bring the innocent victims of his killings to their doom. Whatever he commanded her to do, she did. His demonic charm surpassed her weak human attempts to block him out. Just the downsides of, well, being mortal.

The archfiend sat up, eyeing her over through half lidded eyes. There was an icy tundra in them, if she looked deeply, and even deeper than that. Layers of snow and ice that glinted with a menacingly edge, but mesmerizing and as narcotic as morphine. Whenever she searched them, all she did was delve herself into his beguiling game where she was always the losing side, the one who resulted in being bewitched. His blue eyes were trance-inducing—she couldn't stare into them. If she did, she'd lose sight of her objective.

Ruefully breaking their stare, she followed the grains in the floor. _Len_ was the one who broke the silence. "It's interesting," silky words twirled through her head, intertwining themselves with her comprehensible thoughts and causing it to become _extremely_ difficult to keep a clear mind, "how much sounds are enhanced in the dead of night. One could hear a mouse's squeak." His lips parted to reveal glistening, pearly white teeth. A stunningly flashy sight it was, subtracting his narrowed eyes and the sharpness each tooth was filed to.

His teeth were just one of many indications of his carnivorous nature. Designed to rip through the skin of prey, tear apart sinews and strip muscle from bone; crafted to shred even the toughest of materials, and easily slashing through her tender, warm throat. She gulped. "Then it's my assumption you heard me coming?" Her stance stayed rigid, back rim rod straight and countenance reflecting the coolness he carried. "But if that were true, you surely wouldn't have been so rude as to stay in bed. Why not open to door for my company?" She set the candle on his nightstand, watching the tallow drip into pools in her peripheral vision.

"I was simply tired," he answered nonchalantly, though his words still carried a satin smoothness in them. The woman was unable to hide her taken aback look. Demons did not sleep, not a wink, and he never had before. Yet, he claimed to have been..tired? "You wouldn't want me exerting myself, especially when you haven't brought me a morsel in years." His light tease sounded gravelly to her ears, joking, but behind his crisp eyes was a deep seriousness. She was attuned to his voices, and this serious tone was not be reckoned with.

"The people of this town are becoming aware of who you really are, I fear." The bed creaked under her petite form, sounding unnaturally normal in the tense room. Tense on her end, anyways. She kept one hand hidden behind her back. "They don't seem to believe in the story of the wolf. They ask whether it's possible or not for a lone beast to be responsible for such bloodshed." Her voice faltered a moment in her reminiscence of the blood. Gallons and gallons of blood. "Or if it's some sort of sadistic maniac wandering in the woods."

The imperceptible shrug of his shoulders and sense of indifference unnerved her; he was hardly phased by this news piece. The demon examined his nails in the candlelight, his skin almost translucent under the bland yellow hues. His veins showed perfectly under the paper-like flesh, traveling up his bare arms to branch out at his throat, filled with black blood according to the preacher's book. Len hadn't told her if it was true, what the book of demonic creatures said of them having black blood.

Supposedly, this rare blood granted them immense strength, replenished only by the liquids corresponding to them. A virgin's own blood always sufficed well. The trick was in attaining that vital resource, which wasn't much trouble in a desolate town like theirs. Many a girls were with chastity belts, and this amused Len. The sick, demented, child of—

"That is why I have you," Len cooed, his chilled hand coming to rest atop hers—the one which was free. "You are to lead the others on a goose chase, of some sort. Put to use the deceitful tongue I have seen and spin lies." He smiled. "To protect me, darling. Because, what would you be if I were to vanish?" The smile extended as her lips firmed, he had hit a nerve. "If someone were to dispose of me, what would become of you? Would you turn into a hollow husk of a woman?"

She would be nothing, or that is what he believed. If she were ever ridden of this monster, her days would be overflowing with rejoicing, mourning for the lives that were taken, and prayers to the God above. Not a tear would be spilled for the seductive demon. But he still needed to find truth in that, for if he didn't and saw through her act, her life was as secure as a forsaken soul in the hands of Satan.

"Of course I would," her mouth tasted acrid with these damned lies. Lies, they were all she had spewed for weeks, because he told her to. "My body might as well have withered away into nothing if you weren't here. I couldn't imagine a life where you aren't by my side." She bit her tongue to resist the scream as he ran a hand through her hair, a thin finger stroking her sericeous cheek. The digit was cold and dry against her satiny skin.

"And that is why your life is still intact. And it will continue going on undisturbed if you continue giving your loyalty to me," he advanced suddenly, his body moving with the agility, speed, grace that a mortal's own could only dream to meet. Before she could deny the blonde, full lips replaced his hand and minty breaths nipped at her nose. "Like an ever-obedient pet," he purred, quite aware of her sickened shudder.

"L-Len," she whimpered, her hidden hand gripping the concealed item. His lanky arm had snaked its way around her waist, his mouth migrating lower to nibble at her exposed neck. She couldn't do this with him, not today, not anymore. But her arms might have been as useful as sticks when pushing against his strong, unrelenting body. He could easily break her, so she had to make the first move and break him first. "Stop.."

"You haven't played that game for months now," he chuckled. "You are knowledgeable in the strength of demons, yet you seem to think you can overpower me."

"Please..I don't want to do this," with his attention diverted from her actions, she narrowed her equally cerulean eyes. The arm which had stayed concealed raised to curl around his shoulders, the candle's light glinting off the reflective surface of her unseen object. "I told you to stop," his mouth continued to hungrily feast on her collarbone, "but you did not." She buried her nose in his shoulder, inhaling his refreshing scent of mint—which clashed with the room's putrid stench—as the shining item lifted.

If he knew of the weapon she grasped, he made no indication of it. "Mm, you enjoy this more than me," he snickered, "so why fight it?"

She grit her teeth. Demons, if she had known others she would have enough information to say they were cocky. He was supposedly an alert predator, powerful and cunning, but he hadn't detected anything off about her. She had imagined this moment as.._It's best if he isn't aware, if he was_..The thought went on unfinished. "No," the blade's point winked softly, "this—these killings. They have to stop."

A short pause which was only disrupted by her laboured and his anticipating breathing. "I can't go on with this. You can't go on," she whispered hushly. "So I'm sorry for..!" The knife's blade returned her fear daubed face, the need to vomit at the thought of his blood on her hands clear. She was not an innate killer, but she would make an exception to Len Kagamine. "F-for—!"

What stopped her, the knife shaking in her unstable grip just above the left half is his back, was a deep, guttural chuckle. The demon, he was laughing. Balefully, a laugh which echoed through the house halls, followed by the shrieks that were soon muted, whenever an unlucky girl was selected to be his dinner. His body shook against hers, freezing breath being blown above her heart as platinum hair tickled her skin. "Humans are worthless vermin, the whole lot of them. You were an exception, as I thought you were smarter than them, able to see past my disguise I categorized you as..intriguing."

The knife and her shakes froze, the basic kitchen instrument suspended eternally.

"But then you pull a stunt like this," the fallen angel's mellifluous laugh drifted past her ear. "And I begin to doubt if you're as clever as I initially gathered. For if you were, you would have known I wouldn't be done away with by a poor choice in..slaying weapons." His lips curved against her neck, her jugular beating healthily and with such a rapid pulse. The scent of her blood was enticing him to take a bite. "You're making me wonder if you are like the other girls of this town."

Teeth grazed her skin, his tongue dragging over her throat, familiarizing itself with her taste. Claws latched themselves onto her thighs, the dress proving to be no shield to protect her. God, she couldn't die. Not like this. Not at the hands, or teeth, at the one who had taken so many lives before hers. She had more to live for, more to achieve in her life. But this was the gamble she had taken; succeed and dispose of the demon, or try and..fail.

The monster took one last whiff of her vanilla scent. "You make me wonder if you are just another unimportant mortal, one who is simply only taking up space on this Earth.

"And due to your hesitation," a primal growl churned in his chest, and in the crepuscular room, in the light of the lone candle, his eyes seemed to glow. Brighter and brighter, a vivid, bloody red swimming in black pools. "You have let a chance to kill me escape. A chance you shan't have again."

Len Kagamine hadn't intended to steal the life of his human slave when introduced to her. Introduced to her credulous nature. He wanted to keep her by his side while his rampage through the mortal's Earth was underway. To keep her, to cherish her, to allow her to witness the blood that painted walls when he was at full power, possessing the strength to eliminate her town. She was to become his treacherous doll, one which betrayed what she had known and obeyed his will. The purpose given to her was deceive, lure, and watch him devour those who had never looked Death in the face.

As a demon, he hadn't the body to seduce and fool her. The humans were very wise, but it only took a handsome face for them to become putty. So he watched. He waited. He stalked through dark woods, until he stumbled onto a weary traveler. A gorgeous one, at that. The traveler, under the dirt and grime, was the man who would cause generations to break under his is feet. He could trample over this domain if his skills were put to work.

And so, to become the tempting man he was now, Len Kagamine ate him.

Demons were not bestowed these fleshy bodies when they came into creation, and the only way he could acquire one was by stealing that of a mortal. By ripping the anima from its shell and residing in the empty skin; like putting on a new suit. The traveler's soul was sent to the fiery pits of Hell as he indulged in the pleasures of being a sinful, seductive individual. He would grow accustomed to his powers becoming limited and stretch the skin until it fit, until it bent to his needs and realized it was him controlling. There was no shame in the immoral act. He thought of it as an act of survival.

She had fallen hard, like a good mortal. She was but a puppet he used to carry out his plans, though, her body and mind were two of the many indulgences. Her innocence was tainted by the demon, dirtied past the recognition of what it once was. Such a trusting human. It was saddening—no, not saddening—a shame she would not be under his service anymore. Things could always be replaced however..

Her screams were delicious, almost as luscious as her sweet blood. The sweetness splashed over his taste buds as though he had bitten into a ripe pomegranate, dripping down his dry throat and slaking the raging thirst. A burning fire in his esophagus which only intensified by her close proximity, his fangs aching to bite into her supple skin and tear her apart, was doused with the onrush of wine. The wine of a human body.

Her shrieks urged him to consume every last drop of her life source, her struggles excited him, and the warmth which fled from her touch was absorbed into his icy body. Oh how her lukewarm body felt under him-oh how her flailing and heaving aroused the inner demon he'd kept tucked away. The real him, which focused solely on the heated scarlet she bleed. His senses were blocked, his only need being to silence her screams and relish in her savoury taste.

To eat her alive. To fill the gaping void that consumed his stomach. To repay her for the treachery she had shown to her master.

She choked; she made gurgling sounds; she dropped the knife. It struck him as funny that she would think a simple, manmade knife would be his downfall. He was a demon, a monarchy of Hell, and he was not readying himself to meet the end of his existence so soon. And he would not be destroyed by an ordinary human girl.

"How beautiful." Len detached himself from her neck, admiring the lividness her skin had taken. She looked to be strangled judging by the lack of blush her cheeks held on a normal basis, her color taking on a sick whiteness; though the oozing red which stained her chest said otherwise. This was his favorite part of the game, the end where he would see the light of life flee their eyes, leaving them forever listless, unseeing to his sadistic smile. The girls would be weak, at his mercy in their dying moments, and they would realize one thing.

They had made the greatest mistake by entering his bedroom.

* * *

**After proofreading this, I can say one thing: It came out sounding rushed..Sigh. The first two chapters of this story will take place in early 1800s, just a heads up. This may contain some LenKu, and the I rated this M for some..scenes that may need viewer discretion (if I can pull them off).**


	2. Chapter 2

"Have you heard the news?"

"The news? What news?"

Startling gelid eyes lazily tore away from an untouched glass. He ordered the alcoholic beverage for a purpose to remain seated, though he doubted the tavern keeper noticed him. With all the ruckus going on around them, one would not pick him out of the crowd. Over the warbled singing, boisterous laughter and belching hiccups, and the classic roughhousing, his silent form was easily unnoticed. And that was how he liked it.

He sat hunched over his drink, his cloak's hood concealing the mess of platinum hair, neatly pulled back in a short ponytail. Not exactly the type of person to be targeted, but one who blended into the surroundings, lurking stoically and wondering which bumbling drunk was his next meal. The intoxicating scent of booze was enough to pique his hunger, stomach rumbling dejectedly as his incisors throbbed numbly. He so wanted to rid the earth of one, just one, maladroit drunkard. He would be doing the planet and its inhabitants a favour, as well as himself.

Liquor tainted a human's blood to a deliciousness unlike any; it carried just the faintest traces of alcohol which they had ingested. An extra treat to demons, who were not sanctioned to consume these types of beverages. It would appear that Lucifer was a far more cunning sovereign than thought of. He had laid down rules to his followers, withholding the temptations most covetable: Women, drinks, and any addictive object which could bring enjoyment. He claimed that mortals luxuriated in those things, and that was the cause of their weakness, but there was an underlying reason. The demons were sure of it.

Lucifer's humour was sick, the demon thought begrudgingly. His king was as much a bastard to his people as he was to the archangels. He refused to give the slightest bit of pleasure in return for their hard work—keeping the angels at bay was not a trip through the park. It took strength and determination to keep them from opening the human's eyes to the spiritual world. Strength which he would offer..if he wasn't busy with his own affairs.

Call him an unloyal demon, but what demon was truly faithful to their cause? Their cause being to revert mortals to the beliefs that life was a game, and nothingness existed once death came. But really, was that the only purpose of being a demon? Given these powers over incredible forces and only being allowed to use them while on the job was, in a nutshell, suckish. And that was why most demons chose to go along with their own plans, the only times they pledged their loyalty to the Antichrist was when called upon to report their findings. That happened once or twice in a millennium though, and always to the most avid archfiends. His line of work was of a hellion, the best type of work out there.

His attuned ears needn't strain to catch the wisps of words sounding across the room. It was the commotion which made the task more troubling. Running his thumb over the glass's outer rim, he distinguished the last words of their talk. "..some sort of wild animal, others say it's that killer who everyone's been talkin' 'bout. Rumour has it they found her cut into ribbons. Her throat was torn out an' everythin'. Somethin' horrid, that's for sure."

Something horrid indeed. His tongue slid out to swipe over his lips, the savoury taste causing him to salivate. He always knew she would taste delectable. Her scent had had a nectarous edge, compelling him to eat her quickly before another claimed her. But how could he? A devoted slave shouldn't meet their demise so soon, but if it had to happen, why not at the teeth of their master? He'd seen the desire she held for him, and once he had gotten her to admit to him. Admit her longing to feel him, every hidden part, and that involved his mouth as well. Perhaps she hadn't believed he would do away with her so easily.

Ignorant human. Believing she was of greater importance than the rest of them, he would say she wasn't bright at all. She knew of his tendencies to..lose control, and did she think she could handle his berserk side? If so..she received a nasty surprise. He hid the smirk threatening to appear.

Should he lift his lips in the slightest, no doubt some doltish numbskull would happen to catch sight of his chompers. Humans were oblivious to everything but shocking details. Even their imbibing in drinks wouldn't help him weasel out of his problem. If they spotted his aberrant incisors he wouldn't hesitate in wiping out the room, though he would surely face later consequences for his thoughtless actions. There was no council of any sort to ensure demons kept peace—if that made sense—but he would draw unwanted attention. _Because suddenly, this sadist has struck the local tavern. Wouldn't that look alarming in the papers. _

His eyelids lowered sensually. That would be an article worth reading. Twenty decimated by a single hellish beast or flagitous murderer, it would bring this town to its knees. Sighing in contentment, he moved as to stand. Gathering his belongings, he abandoned the brimming cup. With one last contemptuous glance at the overcrowded room, the demon strode out into the biting cold.

It was windy, freezing to even him. Because his blood wasn't technically circulating had no effect on his temperature, like many would believe. The cold reminded him too much of Hell and its weather. Mortals, just like them to believe everything that is preached, like the interpretation that Hell was a place of eternal fire. _Next time they visit there, why don't they feel for themselves._ Whoever had said fire raged in every direction..they had the wrong information. A desolate place wasn't complete without glacial winds to accompany it, or lack of sunlight.

Pulling his cloak tighter around his frame, he picked up his step down the dusty road. Since the..incident, he had kept low key. Out of sight, sticking to the shadows and fleeing from the light. He did not fear mortals and their arrogance—thinking they held power over demons, ridiculous—but his games would come to an end if he was discovered.

He wanted to play with the other girls of this village. They weren't as remotely interesting as the toy he previously owned, and their only purpose was to act as sustainers for his unrelenting hunger. He wanted fathers to lock their doors when his face appeared, stowing away their daughters for safety, and gain the satisfaction of rebellion as the girls secretly let him in. Insolent girls, foolish girls, imbecilic girls. He wanted a taste of them, but in a way they would never have thought. Humans were greedy with their carnal needs and felt they should receive pleasure from doing nothing. That wasn't his opinion on the matter, _at all._

Mortals were only walking meals, was the bluntness he thought of it. They were a good-for-nothing species, unworthy of the world God had gifted them. He was too lenient with them—Len's fingers fluttered to his temple, calming the tumult of impulse anger. They should be put to work and made to suffer with their nitwittedness. But no, they were granted the option to roam this domain freely while his kind were confined to the lowest prison. And it wasn't like demons were free to leave as they please, they had to escape first. Escape was no laughing matter; looking back at it, Len couldn't suppress his shudder. That was turn down memory lane he rued taking.

He passed a group of hyperactive children, released from their classes and loose to create mayhem. Perhaps it dealt with what went through their minds as adolescents which made them an imbecilic breed. Sparing a glance, he found they wrestled in the street, dirtying their prim uniforms and risking the chance of being trampled by carriages. The apples do not fall far from the tree, he deliberated with a roll of his cerulean eyes. Children were, after all, spitting images of most men. Forgetting the entire misstatement of maturity and erudition. That was wrong, too.

Children fought with sticks and fists, men fought with rifles and canons. Was there really any difference? If there was, it would be that children are humble enough to make amends and hold their peace, while men vainly try to prove their cause as being right. The price of a soul is worthless and lost in the pretentiousness of war.

Len took his stare from them, matching his steps with the rhythm of the passing horses. The beasts' bodies were glossy with sweat as they trudged through mud. Snorts and steam left their wide nostrils, muscular legs straining to lug the weight strapped to their bodies. Their hearts rapidly beat, the swooshing of oxygen rich blood being ejected to their back muscles singing to him. His nose crinkled as he plugged his ear. The lub-dub of the organ pulsated from the exertion they were put through, his honed hearing catching each singular beat as he counted them under his breath. One hundred and fifty-three, estimated.

Under normal circumstances he would find animals revolting, a last resort of food really, but now..when there was a space in his stomach paining him..they looked palatable. Animals were disgusting and bland. It was the soul that made a human's blood sapid, and without it..It was like a dish that lacked proper seasoning. Just the idea of feasting on something even more unwashed than the mortals was—it was not an open option. But wouldn't even a dish of tofu look good to a meat-loving man, after days without food?

The trail he took lead away from the main road, and it would do good to stay inconspicuous. Most houses and town stores lined the main road, but his turned into the dense foliage of the woods surrounding them. The quaint town was nestled in the foothills of four mountains. Hidden from most travelers and nearly invisible on maps, they didn't receive much strangers on a yearly basis. It was okay though, because if they were a popular town, he would instantly be revealed. Someone would discover his hidden house amongst the trees and ask questions, spread rumours, mention things the townspeople couldn't explain. And that wouldn't do.

The path was solely tread on by stray dogs and woodland critters, forgotten by the town and nearly indiscernible as a path. Foliage grew heavy here, outwardly parallel of the path's centre but crawling closer each year. Soon enough the plants would gain dominance over the forest, like they had at one time, and any traces of man would..disappear. His steps were precise, quick, as he couldn't afford leaving evidence of having taken this path. If the townspeople found crushed plants leading away, they'd assume it was the wolf. And if the dogs had his scent..well..dogs were smarter than humans when it came to detecting his kind. _Why be out of the town's boundaries? They would interrogate. You aren't hiding some secrete, are you? _

His walk lead him further than others would venture, not when there was a monster on the loose. The once rustling leaves had silenced at his approach, as had the chirps and mewls and..the forest had fallen quiet in his presence. Even the plants held their leaves still. His breathing—though it was unnecessary for him to breathe—was even and calm against the tense air. The wary eyes of creatures were on him, watching in alertness his every move, daring not to budge an inch. He took a humorous smirk; the animals were smarter than humans, despite the thoughts of their asininity.

The forest was full of twists and turns. Someone who wasn't familiar with the path would easily get lost, and perhaps, found later. As bones stripped of any meat, picked dry by the scavengers of the woods, strewn in shrubs and packed under layers of sediment. But he was an expert. Through the balmy weather, under the dark canopy of branches, over a stream's stepping stones. One would become infuriated, believing they were lost, but his keen sight caught the edge of the hidden building others would overlook. But he sensed something was amiss; Len's lips curled back in disdain as he figured his 'sister' had come for a visit.

Technically, she wasn't his sister. He did not have siblings, nor parents for that matter. He was created from the hatred of monstrous people, born from scorning thoughts and murderous actions. Demons were engenders of every flaw humanity had, he could say. Without errors and mistakes, there would be no sin. And without sin, he wouldn't be there, the habitual urge to repel from her presence causing him to fidget. As demons were brought into life by iniquity, the..others followed the same process. Bad actions made bad people, to say it candidly, so as an inverse, good actions made good people.

This sister of his, she was the product of some saint in the world going about their life. By keeping to justice, they had supplied enough power—what else could he refer to an angel's pre-body?—to create her. Coupled with the rule that with every demon counted required an angel who acted as their counterpart, she was in every aspect his twin of some sort. They could really be mirror images, if it weren't for one distinguishable fact. While she was a child of angelic light and purity, he was a son of havoc and malice. They were alike in all ways but that, and it couldn't have separated them more.

The demon refrained from growling, from backtracking into the woods until she left, as he placed a hand on the door. He sensed her movement; she must know he was outside, labouriously contemplating his entrance. She was probably smiling that snarky, sickeningly sweet grin and resting on his bed, figuring she was causing his hesitation. No, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing she crawled under his fake skin. She was nothing but another of God's petty followers, a shame to those who resented the so called King. Face set with a renewed vigour, he firmly pushed on the door, not at all surprised she had unlocked it without having any obvious muscle.

What do you know, she was sitting on his bed. _And _eating one of his apples. Even if he would leave them to rot, they were still _his_. His complement was in mid-bite when he entered, and she made no rush to swallow the piece. Balancing the apple in her hand, her perky smile was in place. Of course, the feelings of despisal were mutually shared, she just hid it better. After the bite was thoroughly chewed and swallowed, the apple rolling between his palms in an irking manner, she spoke, clearly and formally. "Hello, Len."

"Rin," he greeted coldly. Rin's smile faded at his disregard, like he was some old friend she'd looked forward to seeing, only to find he wasn't what she fantasized. But as fast as it vanished, it returned a split second sooner. Her shift on his bed gave him a second to shut the door, stiff and alert as he turned. Angels were as unpredictable as demons, to Hell with the kindness frontage, and Rin was one angel who enjoyed mischief. Just to a lesser degree than him. She stopped when lives were in danger or her morals were being strained, he cared naught for anything like that. "I hadn't expected having your company."

"You aren't elated, it's not every chance I get I visit you. Why don't you sound pleased in the slightest?" Rin pouted. She knew fully well that he loathed her visits, but she chose to torture him and play dumb. Acting like he found joy in anything she gave him, an airhead with a genius beneath it all. "Of all places I could have gone, I chose here. You could at least be happy about that, brother. You make me feel unloved, as if you feel no admiration towards me. But that isn't true," she tossed the apple upwards, grasping it loosely and taking another bite. "You adore me."

"That's hardly the case," Len impassively said. "Opposite really, and you know it. I don't understand why you're as immature as to keep at this game." He leant on the wall, legs crossed idly, but hands fiddling guardedly. "You've learned in past centuries that this game is tiring. Your voice is tiring, really, but you insist on ranting on, and on, and on. Insist on agonizing me with it whenever you drop in."

There was another crunch as she shrugged, finishing off the last of the apple and tossing its core. It landed perfectly in a makeshift trash. "Do I not have the consent to visit you?" Her hand touched her chest, hurt splaying across her face. "Len, you're so hurtful! I'm only trying to strengthen this bound of ours, and how can I when you're so full of..detestation for me? When you don't seem happy when I come to Earth, ever! I'm supposed to make this connection work between us, on my own? What sort of brother are you?"

"Must I clarify that we are not, never will be, nor would I like to be siblings with you? You know I can hardly tolerate your presence, let alone you sitting on my bed. You're tainting my covers with your wretched stench," the demon turned his cold peepers on her, agitation consuming him as she sat, unfazed. The glare worked on mortals, on the others of his kind, and the few angels he had encountered in his existence, but Rin never faltered under it. She was immune to even his nastiest look, and that was peeving. "Seriously, get off of my bed, Rin. I do not want to smell your scent when I'm awake at night." That was the last thing he wanted to smell.

She dragged her threadlike fingers over the flocculent fur covering the expanse of his bed. The fur tickled her skin, the blanket warm under her touch. Like demons, angels could feel heat, as well as cold. They thrived in warmth, the unofficial symbol for all that was good and honest. Her senses were more endowed than that of a mere mortal's, so every fiber, every hair, every last material was defined under her fingers. She didn't know how The Fallen did it; without touch, there was no way to completely perceive this existence. The covering was sleek, the skin chewed well and the fur brushed to go in one direction. It looked like he put a decent amount of time into making this blanket. No doubt he stole it from a huntsman.

"Looks like someone is grouchy today," Rin commented, stepping off his bed on ballerina feet and dancing to his pantry. He grunted, and she began scouring his pantry. "You were not in a bad mood this time previous, what's wrong?" Her rummaging stopped, before promptly restarting. "Is it because you're darling girl is gone? Because she isn't here to keep you company?" Len tensed. Rin merely smiled, heedless. "But that wouldn't be true. You harboured no feelings for her, so it must be something else. Something that is incredibly irking, something that is ruffling you badly. Care to tell me what it is?" She grabbed the stem of another apple, eyeing its rotting skin and flicking it away in revulsion.

"Not when you're dirtying my residence," Len shot heatedly, bristling at the mess she was making. One thing he and the humans shared: He contemned messes. If it made him look like an uncivil, grimy lowly being, then do away with it. He wouldn't have a thing like garbage tarnish his notorious reputation. However, the dropped apple lay squished by her feet. To discard it, he would have to crouch before her, like a servant to their master. He wouldn't stoop to tidying her messes, not when she was in the room. "And I hardly see how you'd be interested in my life, in my conflicts. I do not want you being invested in my problems. Not that I have any."

Rin pursed her lips sorrowfully, indignation fluttering in her blue eyes. She already intended to pry the answers from him, why couldn't he comply? The closest thing he had as family, friends, any sort of acquaintance, and he made a show of affronting her. "No problems at all?" Rin charily asked, each word pronounced slowly and assuredly. She glanced him over. As always, he wore a mask of apathy, emotions expertly collected to form a reserved expression. "You know I sense when things are going awry. Len, you have to tell me—"

"I do not have to tell you anything," he lashed suddenly, catching the flinch he caused her. It was fulfilling seeing he had made a told to be powerful Host of Heaven cringe. She should be cowering under his rancorous aura. It was an insult to see she bared well against his radiating maliciousness. It made him feel weak, and he detested weakness more than messes.

Angels were the scum of Heaven, imperfections that feed the mortals lies of their extolled strength. Angels were weaker than demons Rin was weaker than him. If he could, if Satan allowed his people to bend God's rules, he would put her to death. Eternal death, a slumber which she nor the other billions of angelic despots would arouse from. Her blonde hair, so similar to his, would fade to ashen black once her powers trickled out. And he would be there to sap it up. Etiolating the once exalted deity to a suffering pile. An angel's blood was rare to come around by, as well. He hadn't actually heard of a demon gaining puissance from a slaughtered Host..but he could _feel_ the power it would enhance him with.

His lookalike regained her composure quickly, mouth set in a firm line, her sapphire pools wrinkling with ripples of anticipation. She was unsure. Why did she have that glint in her eyes? Apprehension disturbed her once calm face. "Well," she folded her arms. Clearly there was a weight on her shoulders. "I truly don't know why I thought I could help you, or why I should. You are my foe..but..you're my brother. Despite everything you say, we're connected. Your pain is mine, though lesser." Her tone dropped, a husky breath. "And as is your anguish, your lonesome shall be mine."

He turned from the chair he had draped his cloak on, raising a golden brow. Now what was she talking about..Rin was known for speaking in rhymes when they conversed, and it got annoying. She wouldn't bother explaining her runes either, leaving him in the dark grasping for the reason of her cryptic words. He should have guessed she had nothing vital to share—she rarely did. Mostly she enjoyed pestering him whenever her job allowed. She did well at locating him, too. The region was a trifle she didn't care for; she had her intuition, and he suspected work of other devices given to her for duties, to find his whereabouts. It was his loss when he found he couldn't foresee her visits, then he would avoid her altogether.

"What?" Len queried, finding his fingers refused to unlock. The cloak stayed in his vice-like grip, Len wondering what his other half was thinking. "It's frustrating to hear your ambiguous messages all the time. Mind you, I'm perfectly capable of decrypting them, but to save time you must learn to speak in simple terms." He worked on fixing his fingers, anxious prickles jabbing at his exposed neck. This was a new feeling.."For the sake of getting your point across, and getting you out of my hair, why not state precisely what you're telling me?" He smacked his neck, the thought of _is there a mosquito in here?_ passing through his mind.

"Sometimes you have to open your ears and really listen, Len, because if you don't bad things can happen." She closed the pantry, searching the table or nightstand for a type rag. Upon finding a suitable wipe, she looked to the ground, as if staring would clean the squished apple. "And don't tell me your excuses of listening when you don't, because if you did, you would have taken my advice and left this town alone." Bending over, she waved the rag above the mess, grimacing before actually beginning to wipe. "You might have picked another town, one better than this. I fear your time here will be cut short."

Len shifted his position from a leaning pose, to a straightened stance. Her words, they held a precaution. Urgent, if he deciphered them properly. It sounded like a warning, but for something he had done a while ago. "I should listen? Please. I'm in charge of my actions, me and me alone. I do not need some superiority telling me otherwise, and I surely do not need some _Host_," he mockingly sneered her title, "telling me things. We are _not_ siblings, Rin. We are not for the same objectives. We aren't even of the same origins. While I was produced by some murder or another act, you were created to balance me out. You should be at my feet, not at my side, and that is final."

Rin's smile fleeted, her gaze going to the window. "You want simplicity? Your wish is granted then, _hellion._ The townspeople have found you. And it is too late to flee."

How was one sentence enough to pause him in his tracks, enough to send a string of doubt to constrict him? If this was enough to rile Rin, was this exposure considered a bad thing? Len was struck with another realization, this one harsher, crueler, heart restarting. If the humans knew the world they thought was falsely fabricated by preachers and fraud prophets, his world, was real..then..That put things in a new perspective. Lucifer had them stick strictly to the pits of his demonic kingdom, his reason? Inexperienced demons could roam the earth, bringing calamities with them, and bring civilizations to crumbling dystopias.

The Dark Prince saw no real fault in this, but his superior would see his punishment was severe. Eternal damnation would possibly be sufficient. If word got to the universal monarch that Satan's followers were on the prowl, he would be subjected to condemnation. And in turn, once his penalization was given, Satan would punish his own for their stupidity. His punishments were terrible, beyond terrible. Death would be a peaceful rest from the suffering he put them through. Fire, pain, darkness, silence. They brought even the strongest demon to pained bellows and tormented screeches. They had brought Len to incoherent cries, drawn howls, spasms that wracked every nerve in his demonic form. Agony, agony and isolation.

Just then, jolting him from the horrid memories of their last punishment centuries ago, a deafening rap echoed in the room. The knocking was coming from the door? This far out in the woods? Rin had a special gift, imparted to her when she became a full-fledged Host, and he wouldn't doubt she was right about the townspeople. She wasn't wrong, she couldn't _make_ her predictions a hoax. Whatever she saw would happen in the short run, defying all theories of cause and effects. What path a person chose to take mattered nothing, as they all lead to the one event which shaped their life, or ended it. There wasn't such a thing as one option changing the entire outcome. Everything was mapped ahead of time, when the Big Plan was created.

Len swept back his bangs, inhaling once. "Is that them, Rin?" Nothing. "Rin?" Glancing back to the pantry, he spotted no sign of the angel. Not a hair was left behind, and the crushed apple was mopped up, too. He had partially figured she would vanish at a time like this, where he could use a distraction instead of meaningless chatter. Well, now he wouldn't be cleaning her mess. _How considerate. That is one chore I won't have to do, though, I don't think it'll matter much after this._ After this..the two words resonated in his empty skull as he moved on impulse. Unlike angels, demons didn't have the beneficial power to disappear when a problem arises. They endured it head on.

Movements gracile, he stepped to the door, a charming smile overtaking his lips. The door cracked open to reveal hardened eyes shielded by blue hair. "Ah, Kaito," with silk sewn into his greeting, Len tried to not slit his eyes. "Such a pleasant surprise you've given me this evening. What do I owe this visitation? The town is quite a way from here, would you like to enter my abode? For a snack perhaps, maybe a drink—"

Kaito's hand gripped the door, forcing it open as he ignored Len's hiss of disapproval. "Save it, demon. I've been watching you since you first appeared in town, when the disappearances and massacres began. I know what you are, and as of now, so does the entire town."

"Oh? Humour me, why don't you."


End file.
